


Bake Off

by alison



Category: One Direction (Band)
Genre: Alternate Universe, Alternate Universe - College/University, Exhibitionism, Frot Bros, Frottage, M/M, Oral Sex, Plot What Plot/Porn Without Plot, Recreational Drug Use, Voyeurism, apparently the frat is only the four of them, as always with frot bros, gratuitous use of the word 'bro'
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2015-08-22
Updated: 2015-08-22
Packaged: 2018-04-16 15:45:56
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,126
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/4630959
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/alison/pseuds/alison
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>
  <em>He’s not sure who first suggested it, but the idea had unfolded quickly: a baking competition between Niall and Louis to see who could create the best weed-infused baked goods. Louis may not know much about baking, per se, but he sure as fuck knows his weed. </em>
</p><p>a baking competition, a large amount of marijuana, and an even larger amount of frottage.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Bake Off

**Author's Note:**

> inspired by caitlin, who texted me "OH MY GOD" "FROT BROS NOUIS AU" "ALSO TITLED BAKE OFF"
> 
> important notes: there is a moment of non-consensual photography of sexual activity. it is addressed quickly, but not really punished. irl, if anyone takes photo/video of you doing sex stuff without your permission, punch them in the face, delete it, and then smash their phone. within this fic, assume a high level of trust and excitement over the exhibitionism/voyeurism aspect of things.
> 
> also, there is one teasing comment that could be seen as borderline homophobic. not blatant at all, but fyi.

The idea was born on a Wednesday night when they’d been passing around a bowl and Harry had flipped the telly to Bake Off. They’d all been comfortably stoned when the contestants had started creating the most delicious looking shit Louis had ever seen.

“I could make that,” Niall had mumbled, right as Louis had said, “ _Bake_ off,” with a chuckle.

He’s not sure who first suggested it, but the idea had unfolded quickly: a baking competition between Niall and Louis to see who could create the best weed-infused baked goods. Louis may not know much about baking, per se, but he sure as fuck knows his weed.

Harry and Liam sit perched on the kitchen table as they watch, necks craning to see what they’re doing. Niall has gone with some fancy biscuits, with fruit and nuts and a drizzle of glaze on top, but Louis has chosen a bog standard pot brownie. Nothing like the original, he figures.

Admittedly, the brownies are a little gooey in the middle and crunchy on the outside, but he carefully cuts pieces from in between, where it’s perfectly cooked, and plates them for the judges. Niall’s biscuits _look_ nice, but Louis knows that nothing actually beats a pot brownie. He’ll get points for creativity, sure, but Louis will win on taste.

Harry and Liam taste Niall’s biscuits first, doing a lot of humming and nodding, commenting on the nice crunch and the lovely combination of flavours. Louis rolls his eyes and pushes his plates at them, puffing out his chest in premature celebration. Except, when Harry and Liam take a bite of his brownies, their eyes go huge, Liam’s hand covering his mouth as he chews and Harry squeezing his eyes shut.

“Jesus, Louis, how much weed did you put in here?” Harry finally chokes out.

Louis’ brow creases and he scoops out a piece from the pan to test it himself. As soon as it’s in his mouth, he understands. It tastes a lot like eating straight weed, with a hint of chocolate.

“It’s- it’s meant to be eaten in very small bites. You’re just eating it wrong,” Louis says, covering up his own cringe as he chews.

“Whatever, mate, Niall wins,” Liam says, chugging back some water.

Louis frowns and picks at a bit of weed stuck between his teeth. “His probably don’t even have weed in them. I don’t see any. That’s cheating.”

Niall is laughing, cheeks pink with amusement. “Bro, you have to infuse it into the butter or something. You’re not supposed to leave the leaves in there.”

Louis huffs, frustrated. This was a stupid idea. “Well, we’re not fucking wasting this, so you’re all gonna eat it anyway.”

“No shit,” Liam says, glancing at the pan. “There’s probably a hundred quid worth of weed in there, dude.”

Louis shrugs and takes another- much smaller- bite of his brownie. He can already feel it hitting his system a bit, a buzz forming under his skin. Niall could probably eat a dozen of his biscuits and not get the same high, so, he thinks his is better anyway.

-

An hour later, they’re fucking wasted. They’ve eaten most of Niall’s biscuits and nibbled at Louis’ brownie and Louis is heavy with it, lying across the sofa. Harry and Liam are giggling on the floor and Niall- actually, he’s not sure where Niall is.

“Niall,” he calls, drawing the word out. His head is so fuzzy. He thinks that he likes it, but he’s not sure yet.

“Louis,” Niall replies, crawling over the back of the sofa from where he’d apparently been lying behind it. He flops over, crumpling on top of Louis, but when he starts to move away, Louis holds him there. The weight feels nice.

“Bro,” he sighs, his voice raspy. “Dude. Mate. You cheated.”

Niall laughs, soft, right next to Louis’ ear. “Did not,” he says, squirming.

Louis chuckles softly, uses his hands on Niall’s waist to try to pull him closer, or maybe to keep him from squirming so much. He doesn’t even notice when it changes, doesn’t notice anything weird at all until he belatedly realises that he’s hard. That’s when he blinks his eyes open, comes back to reality, and notices that his legs are spread wider and Niall’s not so much squirming anymore as grinding their hips together. Another moment later, he becomes aware of the fact that Niall is hard, too.

He hums, grips Niall’s hips, and pulls them down hard, thinking that this should probably be weird as fuck. Harry and Liam are still on the floor, laughing at something on the telly, and Louis has never really gone for blokes before.

Except for that one in his maths course that Louis couldn’t stop looking at, but that guy had basically been a Greek god.

“Bro,” Louis says, his voice low and coming out thick like molasses. That might just be his brain, though, he’s not sure. “You gonna nut off from this?”

Niall releases a quiet, rough whimper, tucking his face into Louis’ shoulder. “Feels so good,” he whispers, his hips still working against Louis’. “Everything – feels –” He doesn’t bother finishing his thought, trailing off with a small sigh.

Louis isn’t sure how long they stay like that, rutting against each other like fucking animals, but eventually he decides he wants more. He’s not going to be able to come like this, not with so much weed in his system, but he’s hard enough that he does want to come. So, eventually, he grips hard on Niall’s hips, stopping his movements.

“Lemme just scoot up,” he says, trying to pull himself up. It feels impossible with how heavy his limbs are. “Christ, moving’s hard,” he grunts, using every ounce of his energy to get sitting up, push a pillow under his back, and rest his shoulders against the armrest.

“What’re you lads doing,” Harry drawls curiously.

Louis doesn’t answer him, just makes grabby hands at Niall to come closer, pulls him until he’s kneeling over the tops of Louis’ thighs, right where he wants him.

“I’m so fucked up,” he mumbles, taking a moment to breathe through the high. When he’s gathered himself enough, he brings his hands to his flies, unbuttoning and unzipping them, pulling his dick out. It feels so good, like releasing a weight from his lungs.

When he moves his hands to the waist of Niall’s shorts, he pauses for a second, frowning. “You’re, like, clean and shit, right?” he asks.

Niall’s hips push against Louis’ hands before he answers and only then does Louis notice the wet spot over the obvious tent in the fabric. “Yeah, yeah, I am,” he answers hoarsely, needily, and Louis doesn’t waste any more time before he pulls the elastic waistband down, Niall’s dick flopping out.

“No, really, what are you doing,” Liam asks dazedly. Louis doesn’t even look, knows they’re both watching, and that’s fine. Whatever happens in the frat house stays in the frat house or whatever.

Niall’s dick is wet. Like, fucking sloppy with precome. Louis pulls weakly at his hips, grateful when Niall understands and drops down enough that their dicks slide together. Louis watches it, watches the smear of wet that Niall’s cock leaves behind on his own.

“Think I’ve fucked _girls_ who didn’t get this wet, bro,” he mumbles, reaching down to grab Niall’s dick, press it harder against his own.

Niall makes a small choked noise and Louis smirks lazily, wraps his fingers around where their dicks are aligned. He can’t get both of them in his grasp, can just barely curl his fingers around enough to hold them together. When Niall fucks forward just a little, Louis’ eyelids flutter shut and he leans his head back on the armrest, giving them both a squeeze.

“’S good,” he rumbles, letting Niall fuck into the grip again, the wet of his cock letting him slide against Louis seamlessly.

“Is this his consolation prize, Niall?” Harry asks, then giggles.

“More like Niall’s prize for winning,” Louis retorts without opening his eyes.

“Dunno, mate, you seem to be enjoying yourself,” Liam points out.

Louis smirks again, but it falters when his lips part as the head of Niall’s cock catches on his, the slide of it so slick. “Never said I wasn’t,” Louis mumbles, then opens his eyes when Niall stills for a moment.

It takes forever for his vision to right itself and he sees Niall slumped against the back of the sofa, eyes closed. “Getting tired, bro?” Louis asks, running his hand up over them, dipping his fingers into Niall’s slit and watching a string of precome stretch and break as he pulls it away. He does it again, then again, not in much of a rush to get off.

“Fuck, Louis,” Niall groans, slumping further down.

Louis pulls his hand away completely, lets their dicks rest together, and closes his eyes again. “Give me a sec and I’ll switch you,” he murmurs.

But then Niall just slips down over him, like gravity is winning the battle, and he falls half on top of Louis, cursing against his shoulder. “Shit, Lou, I- c’mon,” he says, dazed, his hips rutting against Louis’ again.

The angle is wrong now, though, so Louis pushes Niall off of him, presses him to the back of the sofa on his side. “Here, let’s just,” he whispers, pushing himself onto his side, too, his chest pressing against Niall's. He shifts his hips until his dick rubs against Niall’s again and he sighs. “Yeah, like that.”

This way, they can both move just enough to get the perfect amount of friction. Louis’ leaking enough precome now to add to Niall’s mess and it’s so slick and hot that his fingers dig into Niall’s waist, his breath coming in heavy pants.

“You guys are, like, really doing that,” Harry mumbles from somewhere behind Louis’ back. “Dude.”

Louis knows they’re watching, can feel their heavy stares on them, and he thinks he ought to give them more of a show. Niall’s got his face tucked into Louis’ neck again, his breath wet and frantic against his skin, but Louis pulls him back enough to press their lips together like a question. The answer is immediate, Niall letting out a small whimper, diving in to kiss him again, harder.

“Holy shit,” Liam says, sounding stunned. “Dude, we should be, like, filming this for one of them porn sites, y’know, uni twinks fucking or whatever.”

“How d’you know about those sites,” Harry answers, giggling to himself.

“Everyone knows about those sites, dickhead,” Liam says, his eye roll almost audible.

Louis bites at Niall’s bottom lip, pulls away just long enough to say, “Could you two keep the chatter down. Trying to focus here,” then pushes back into Niall’s lips, pressing his tongue between them.

Niall parts his lips for it, presses his own tongue to Louis’, and then they’re full-on snogging, writhing against each other. Louis still isn’t in a rush, but he also doesn’t want to lose his orgasm by drawing it out too long. He’s got a tiny burst of energy, edging its way through the high, and he takes advantage, slipping his hand between their bodies. He gets their dicks lined up in his fist again and starts stroking, feeling Niall’s body melt between that and the kiss.

“Sounds fuckin’ filthy, bro,” he murmurs, listening to the slick squelching sounds of his hand moving over them.

Niall seems to like it, his hips twitching forward to fuck shallowly into Louis’ hand, against his dick. “I’m gonna come,” he mutters, straight into Louis’ open mouth.

A few more strokes of Louis’ hand does it and, if Louis thought he was wet before, it doesn’t compare to when he actually comes. It drags out forever, thick streams of it shooting, soaking the space between them. Louis snogs him through it, then pulls away to let him breathe, and when he pulls his hand out, he stares at it with wide eyes, at the milky-translucent come dripping from it.

“Jesus Christ, bro, when’s the last time you came? You been saving it since you were sixteen or something?”

Niall bites his shoulder, tells him to shut up, and flops his head back as he comes down. Louis takes a moment himself, dropping flat on his back, exhausted from getting Niall off. His own dick is still achingly hard – and covered with Niall’s come – but his energy is dwindling. Looking down at himself, his jeans pushed open and his t-shirt riding up, his pink dick resting against his belly, he sighs and turns toward Niall.

“What’d’you say you clean me up then,” he proposes softly, not sure what kind of response he’ll get. “Made kind of a mess of my dick. Pretty rude.”

Niall’s pupils are blown so wide that Louis can barely see the blue. He wonders if it’s more from the drugs or the sex. “Like?” Niall rasps, curious.

Louis purposely drops his gaze to Niall’s mouth, lowers his voice to a whisper. “Yeah. Lick it up for me, mind your manners,” he says with a slow smirk, dragging his gaze back up to Niall’s eyes. “If y’want.”

Niall moves slowly, so slowly that Louis can hear one of the other lads’ breath catching as Niall lies down between his legs, curling up to fit in the space. Someone actually gasps when Niall licks out, tasting himself on Louis’ dick, and he knows that it must be Liam because Harry is lowly saying, “oh my fucking god.”

Finally glancing over, he sees Liam lying on the floor on his side, staring at them with huge eyes, and Harry sitting next to him with – with a fucking phone held up, pointing at them.

“Turn that off, you jackass,” he says, his breath hitching as Niall licks another swipe over his dick. “You don’t fucking film shit like this without asking. Delete it.”

“It was just a picture,” Harry grumbles, dropping the phone to his lap and tapping at the screen.

“Save it,” Niall mumbles against Louis’ dick. “Wanna – wanna keep it.”

Louis turns back to his mate between his legs and bites down on his lip. He groans loudly when Niall slides his lips around the head of Louis’ dick, sucks gently. “Well, you heard the man,” he manages to choke out, staring down at where Niall is licking all of his come away from Louis’ cockhead, tongue swirling soft and wet over him. “Wanna remember this, do ya?” he asks, and he would smirk if he could manage it, but he’s too strung out on the feeling of Niall’s lips, his hot tongue. “How’s your spunk taste, bro? You like that?”

If the way he’s savouring it, holding Louis in his mouth as he sucks around him, says anything, then he does like it. He likes it quite a lot.

“Bet it tastes better than your brownies,” Liam points out.

Louis rolls his eyes and settles his head back, closing his eyes. “Fuck off, Li.”

He sighs as Niall slides down, starts sucking him off properly instead of just licking up his own come. It feels so fucking amazing that he’s pretty sure he’s melting from the inside out, his muscles turning to liquid as he gets lost in the feeling. Niall doesn’t even seem like he’s all that practised at sucking dick, but he’s got an incredible mouth and Louis is high as a kite and it feels fucking perfect.

“Can Harry take a video of this,” he mumbles out, reaching down to tangle his fingers in Niall’s hair where he’s bobbing slowly on Louis’ dick. “Can’t fuckin’ keep my eyes open right now, but I wanna see. Later, like.”

Niall hums out an affirmative answer, nodding around Louis’ cock, and Louis doesn’t check to see if Harry’s doing it; he knows that he is.

The added excitement of being filmed seems to get Niall into it even more. He doesn’t really speed up, probably doesn’t have the energy for it, but he starts moaning, starts working his tongue over Louis more, letting him pop out of his mouth to rub his wet lips against him. Louis takes it all without directing because it’s all so good that he’s happy to just sit back and enjoy. He keeps a hand in Niall’s hair, though, threading his fingers into it.

“You close at all?” Niall asks eventually, bringing a hand to the bottom half of Louis’ cock, stroking over it. His lips drag just under the head, press a sloppy kiss there.

“Fuck, yeah,” Louis sighs out. He’s been teetering at the edge for a while, but with Niall’s hand on him, he can feel it building. “Just like that.”

Niall doesn’t stop, keeps his hand moving in an even rhythm and keeps his lips moving over the top couple of inches of Louis’ dick. Louis still can’t open his eyes, but he can picture it, Niall’s lips deep pink and his calloused hand wrapped tight around him. He can picture him, eyes closed, pulling Louis into his mouth and sucking him so sweetly, so fucking eagerly.

“Close, bro,” he murmurs, feeling Niall’s tongue flick over his slit, the tightness deep inside him burning hot.

Niall pulls off at the last minute, wanking Louis right up to his orgasm. It hits like molten lava overflowing, slow and intense, until he’s shooting off in Niall’s hand, his body arching into it. Niall pulls him through it, until Louis is empty and shaking and blown away by the whole thing, and then he lets go, coughing softly.

Finally peeking an eye open, Louis nearly chokes when he sees Niall’s face streaked with come, his lips damn near magenta from blowing him. Niall smiles blearily back at him, then wipes at his face.

“Let’s make this bake off thing a weekly event,” Louis rasps, then drops his head back, exhausted.

Niall crawls up next to him, rests his head on Louis’ chest, and Louis is already nearly asleep when he hears the quiet sounds of the video being replayed from the floor next to them.

“Go wank to our sex tape somewhere else,” he mumbles, curling his arm around Niall’s shoulder.

They do, Harry and Liam both leaving the room, and Louis wonders for a moment if they’re going to the same place, if they’ve been inspired by Niall and him. The thought drifts out of his mind quickly, though, his brain too sleep-foggy to worry about it.

“Night, bro,” he says, giving Niall a weak squeeze.

He doesn’t answer, already asleep on Louis’ shoulder. Louis kisses his forehead, lets himself smile, and feels unconsciousness spread over him like a warm blanket.


End file.
